Lost and Found
by carolina-28
Summary: Disobeying his father for the first time, leads to a discovery which shakes Arthur's faith in the people he trusts the most.
1. Chapter 1

Warning: Merlin/Arthur

* * *

He'd always been told that patience is a virtue but young Arthur was adamantly convinced the saying was overrated. The door with the red cross painted on it fascinated him; it had only been a week since Arthur had found it and he desperately wanted to know what was hidden behind the door.

Standing in a dingy corridor hand pressed on solid wood Arthur inhales the musty smell and stifles the urge to cough. Cobwebs hang near his face so he sweeps them aside. The dungeons are creepy (not that he would ever admit this) and hold those his father has declared guilty of crimes against Camelot. This particular door lay beyond the other cells.

Technically he should not be here at all, he muses. Father would kill him if he discovered such blatant disobedience. Well if Arthur had not been his one and only heir. Morgana could not take the throne, being a girl. Thank God. He did not dare contemplate the state of Camelot if that occurred. She would probably create an army of Amazonian women just because she could.

The dungeons had long been decreed forbidden territory. The King had denied access to all but assigned guards. The "and that means you too son" still rankled. Surely if the big oafish guards gained access to somewhere so exciting (albeit creepy) then the Prince should be able to as well. The men were not even Knights for pity's sake. Puffing out his narrow chest and stamping his feet hadn't worked, to Arthur's great disgust, with his father merely shaking his head with depressing finality. It hadn't helped that the nearest Knight to him, a brute of a man, had patted him on the head and told him towait a few years.

Yes. Patience as a virtue was definitely overrated.

Anticipation for when he would be able to commence his training, _properly_, made him tremble. Targeting watermelons didn't count and was a poor substitute.

Tracing a hand over the grainy wood, Arthur released his pent up frustration with a swift, agonising kick. The door did not budge. He stifled his gasp of pain. Old lessons died hard, even though there was no one to hear this display of 'weakness', as father put it.

What could be in an unguarded yet locked door? Arthur didn't like puzzles, especially when they resided so close to home.

He had stumbled across the door the previous week, venturing down into the dungeons to find a hiding place from Morgana. The idea of having a sister of sorts had not appealed and this opinion had only strengthened after a year in her persistent company. Practising swordplay with a girl was not his idea of a good time. Neither was, _whisper it,_ having his hair brushed until it gleamed. (Morgana's words)

Arthur had chosen the dungeons as his hiding place, as he doubted Morgana would suspect him of disobeying his father, if her digs about being a good little Prince were any judge. In addition, he did actually want to explore the place he had only been able to imagine. The combination of eluding Morgana and the sense of going on an adventure had beckoned him to the dungeons like a moth to a flame.

At first, he'd been ready to turn back after dodging several guards and seeing nothing but doors and grime. Then he had found himself at a dead end in front of an imposing wooden door. It had not been remarkable to look at, and he should have turned back, but something had compelled him to reach for the iron ring. It had been a bitter disappointment when he'd tugged only to discover the door was locked. Kicking his frustration and glaring at the keyhole he had then pouted at the barrier to a glorious pretend. It was rare that he was denied something he wanted. There was no real reason why he had to get inside, but simply that he could not made him that much more determined.

This was why a week later he was back again, and had been every day in between. He was here earlier than before; eagerness had made him leave his bed to visit the door at dawn. It called to him and had become almost an obsession. An aura of mystery surrounded the room and already his imagination had created countless reasons for why it was locked and what, or who, may be inside.

The light was still dim as he had crept from his chambers and headed for the dungeons. He had disguised himself encase he had to bluff his way past a guard. Arthur knew enough about the protocol and running of the dungeon in theory to do so. He hoped. If it came to it then he could reveal his identity but Arthur did not dare weigh too heavily on _that._

His hand rested flat, palm flush against the rough wood. He chanted in his head pleas that it would just bloody well open. _Please._

The sound of footsteps made him startle. Quickly Arthur took a left down a nearby tunnel, away from the sound and a few seconds later, there was silence. Then he could hear the sound of a key turning in a lock.

Morning lad," a gruff male voice grunted. "Got yer bread and such and a bit o' water."

Arthur moved cautiously to the corner of the tunnel, peeked around and abruptly his jaw dropped. Excitement rushed through his veins.

He wondered what to do, if he should creep closer to the open door. No. That would be foolish.

"Thank you." It was a quiet croak.

Arthur froze. His heart raced. What to do.

Before he could make up his mind either way, a large, beefy man dressed as a guard left the room with a gentle, "Bye lad."

Arthur scuttled back quietly, with a sigh of relief and watched as the man retraced his steps, and left the dungeons. Turning to the door, he frowned. If someone was inside then why hadn't they responded to his kicks and general grumbling?

He couldn't ask his father, as he would be punished for being here at all and there was no one else he could ask.

Arthur frowned. On the other hand?

Thinking carefully about the possible repercussions of what he was considering he whispered a soft farewell to the unknown occupant and carefully made his way back to the surface.

"You know your father would be furious if he knew you had directly gone against his wishes," the elderly man scolded. His narrowed eyes and pursed lips seemed intent on pressing this fact.

Unfortunately, Arthur was all too aware of the truth of the statement.

"But Gaius, I had to find somewhere away from _her!" _he exclaimed gesturing wildly with his hands and enhancing the final word with all his righteous disdain for annoying pipsqueaks.

Arthur caught a gleam of humour ruthlessly repressed in those sharp eyes and hid a smirk. He watched though disgruntled, as Gaius's expression grew stern.

"Now you know Morgana has had a tough few months with losing her father the way she did and having no mother. You should understand how that feels," Gaius remonstrated, almost apologetically as he brought up the reality of Ygraine's death.

Arthur kicked his foot against the table leg and grunted as he acknowledged that perhaps he should be more understanding of Morgana's feelings.

"I suppose," he muttered. "I'm just not used to having to share..." He stopped as he realised how selfish he would sound finishing his sentence.

The physician was smiling at him.

"It's normal how you're feeling Sire," he soothed gently. "However I think showing some empathy from time to time may help young Morgana settle in more easily."

Arthur nodded wondering how this visit had began with him so determined to learn the truth about his door and ended in his being ticked off, albeit kindly.

He would still get his answer.

"So," he murmured and smiled beguilingly. "Whilst in the dungeons, I found a cell which was far beyond the rest. It is marked with a red cross. I thought it was unguarded but earlier today I watched as a guard took food and water to what sounded like a boy." Arthur looked at Gaius with raised brows encouraging a response.

"Are you alright?" he asked in concern, noting the sudden leeching of colour from the man's face. The man certainly did not appear so.

Gaius reached forward and grasped his hand across the table, which held vials of liquid and sprawled open books.

"Sire I think you should forgot all about the dungeons. They are no place for young men." he shook his head. His eyes were wide, earnest as they held the Prince's.

"Exactly!" Arthur exclaimed. "But it sounds like there is one being held in a cell. What is all the mystery and what can he have done to deserve such a fate?"

It appeared that Gaius would speak, but then he groaned and shook his head wearily. "If you'll excuse me Sire, I should be delivering these vials to my patients before midday."

Arthur stared as he was essentially shooed away by the court physician.

* * *

_The next day._

"Sire," Gaius nodded deferentially as he entered Arthur's chambers. He stood with clasped hands, to the average eye was relaxed, and trouble free. Arthur who had grown up around the man knew different.

Gesturing to a vacant chair, Arthur waited until the older man had sat before recommencing his pacing. He had considered how best to approach this, as he knew how loyal Gaius was to his father and hadn't wanted to put the man in such a difficult position. He also didn't want to put himself in such a difficult position. Yet it had to be done. He had itched, paced and ranted since abandoned in the physician's chambers and knew one thing and one thing only. He would gain no peace until he knew the truth. Gaius knew something and Arthur was desperate to know what.

"Gaius," he began.

"Sire, if I may," the man interrupted. He looked slightly green but somehow resolved. "I believe you wish to know about this door which you happened upon in the dungeons?"

Arthur ceased his pacing and stared. Then he nodded.

"I hesitated and to be honest still do Sire," the man murmured. "Yet I know you well and see that familiar glint." Here the man smiled tightly. "You are determined to know and I know you will not stop until you do. The last he whispered.

Arthur jerked his head in acknowledgment of the truth in this statement. He noted the clenched hands with knuckles white.

"Take your time," he said gently.

"I have no wish to betray your father Sire," Gaius stated seriously. "However, long this issue has preyed on my mind and long have I wished I could alter what happened all those years ago."

Arthur waited.

"Magic," Gaius whispered, nervously.

Frowning, Arthur wondered what that had to do with a caged boy.

Gaius visibly collected himself and Arthur listened intently.

"Sixteen years ago, a young woman came to Camelot and she brought her young newborn son." Appearing sad and reflective, he continued. "However, after two years it came to Uther's attention that the boy was a conductor of magic, in fact was a magician."

Arthur frowned, leaning forward, knowing well his father's hatred for such abilities. He himself had always felt a little envious at the thought of possessing such a gift. He imagined the good he could do for Camelot and his people. He had always felt pity and a tinge of regret for wasted life as he watched them die, one after the other, at his father's command.

"What happened to him?" he asked, afraid of the answer.

"He would certainly have been put to death if it hadn't been for one thing," Gaius murmured.

"What?" Arthur asked impatiently. He wondered what would give his father pause when deciding on what punishment was fitting for a warlock.

"He was, up until the King's discovery, a favourite playmate to a child of a powerful member of Court. This fact stayed the King's hand, albeit reluctantly, and he commanded that the child and his mother be locked in a cell in the deepest recesses of the dungeons." Gaius looked physically sick as he recounted the tale. "Hunith was allowed to nurse the boy and remain with him until he reached the age of ten. After that she was banished to a village on the borders of Camelot."

Many a time Arthur had disagreed with father over how he treated the people of Camelot. However, never had he felt the urge to throttle him with his bare hands. A child, he had imprisoned a child, for possessing an ability he could not control. The reasoning was not sound; the boy did not deserve to lose his life and all of his potential because of something he could not help.

"Was the room I found?" Arthur stopped his throat tight and thick with fiery emotion.

The physician nodded. "Yes, from your description, that is the cell where they were put."


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks Dori for beta. I hugs you lots X

Oh dear Lord.

Arthur stared at the older man without seeing him at all. His vision blurred and he heard the other man mutter something. Then he was sitting and a tumbler of golden liquid was in his hands.

"Drink Sire," Gaius advised.

Arthur was vaguely aware that he sounded sympathetic. He gasped, coughing uncontrollably as the fiery liquid burned its way down his throat to sit warmly in his stomach. Staring at the ceiling, he saw none of the intricate swirls and life, as he knew it had turned on its head. He felt betrayed, even thinking of what his father had done made Arthur's hands clench tight enough to ache. He slackened his grip for fear of breaking the glass and took another swig. Yet hadn't he watched as life after life was extinguished in fiery vengeance. Not impassively, no, but that did not alter the fact that he had watched. Watched and done nothing. People had died simply for being magical and it had been their only supposed crime. Why was it only now, as he imagined a powerless woman with child that he found it all abhorrent? What did that say about him?

"Sire?" the physician asked carefully.

It wasn't a specific question and the way his mind was spinning Arthur didn't think he could formulate a response to anything but a direct query.

He studied the rooms, which belonged to the court physician. They appeared comfortable enough, if basically furnished. Life must be so much simpler here he imagined. For the first time Arthur found himself wishing for a simpler life without the dark, troubling turns his own had taken of late. He would have laughed at such thoughts previously but now, staring at the kindly if sombre man hovering anxiously over him, he could see the attraction.

"I should have held my tongue," Gaius muttered. His sharp eyes held repentance and worry as he studied the Prince.

Arthur shook his head. "No. I am glad you did," he said flatly. "This can't go on." He thought about the many lives lost, and a baby torn from his mother's arms at a tender age. "No longer Gaius; no longer."

There was fear in Gaius's expression but overriding that was admiration and respect.

"I fear the King will not change his mind so easily," he suggested. "I mention the boy every year to no success and dare not speak of tolerance for the magical community."

Arthur's shoulders slumped. If his father's most trusted advisor, the court physician, could make no ground in altering the King's opinion, then how could he, a mere boy, not yet involved in matters of state. He was not quite sixteen years and his father still thought of him as a child. It was frustrating to see boys younger than him becoming knights whilst being told he had to wait until his next birthday. Coddled and protected like a child when he would have to lead them all in time! No wonder he lost his temper and stamped his feet. He knew such behaviour did not help but he got so frustrated!

Arthur doubted sometimes that his father even loved him, never mind respected him.

He said this aloud, watched the other man's brow crease, and then smooth as he smiled a rare smile.

"If there is one person Uther loves, then it is you Sire," Gaius said seriously but with softened eyes. "Trust me on that, for I have known your father for too many years to count." He chuckled and brushed a wrinkled hand through his white, straggly hair as if bringing attention to his climbing years. "If he will listen to anyone on this matter it will be you."

Arthur smiled properly for the first time since entering the chambers.

"I am not confident father will listen but I have to try for…" he paused and looked up at Gaius abruptly. "You didn't tell me the boy's name."

"Merlin," the physician said simply. "His name is Merlin."

Arthur felt a pang of something at the name and ran it through his head trying to find echoes from the past. Strange, he thought. For a brief moment, it had seemed familiar.

A thought occurred to him. "You said he came here sixteen years ago," he said. "Did I ever meet him or his mother?"

The other man reached down and dragged a chair over to sit beside him. "Arthur you were the child I spoke of," he murmured quietly. "You were Merlin's childhood playmate."

He did not recall Merlin but they could have grown up as close friends, he could have had someone to confide in!

Arthur's vision was hazy as he stalked from Gaius's chambers and went in search of his father. He ignored the older man's shouts of his name as he quickened his pace. Soon he had left the other man far behind.

It was the end of the week and usually Uther was entrenched in meetings with his knights. He didn't want an audience for what he had planned but Arthur knew he had to have this out now when he was angry enough to do so. His father was imposing and Arthur found it difficult at the best of times to be honest about what he truly thought and not tow the line. Perhaps Morgana wasn't completely out of line in her comments in that regard. Arthur frowned at the thought and stuck out his chin determined to be different now when it mattered and it was something he was passionate about. Tantrums would not work; he resolved to be adult about this. For Merlin's sake and for the relationship they could have had. Would have if he had anything to do with it and the boy would allow it.

Hearing Gaius talk of how close they had been – well it had been heartbreaking for someone who had never had a proper friend. They had only been a couple of years old but the opportunity to develop a deep friendship had been destroyed by his own father!

There were two guards standing outside the door as expected and they both nodded deferentially as they acknowledged Arthur's presence.

"Is my father inside?" he asked and inhaled sharply at their immediate nods.

He pushed on the door, ignoring their frowns of surprise. They did not attempt to stop him though despite the unexpected behaviour. He was still the Prince.

Arthur took in the scene. His father at the head of a rectangle table, holding court over around ten men as he spoke of the quest to make Camelot the greatest city in existence. He felt a little sick at the thought of a Kingdom seeking greatness whilst simultaneously locking up mere babes.

"Arthur," the King stated in surprise. He was frowning and one eyebrow lifted in askance at this unscheduled disturbance.

"I request a word in private Sire," Arthur announced flatly refusing to call him father at such a time. He ignored the sudden whispering, met his father's blank stare, and watched as he lifted a hand to silence the group.

"Has something occurred that threatens Camelot?" Uther asked and frowned as his eyes swept over his son's face no doubt noting the open emotion. He had been trained to remain impassive under the most difficult of circumstances so Arthur was sure Uther would wonder at his current lack of control.

"I request a word in private Sire," Arthur repeated and schooled his expression to hide his spiralling anger.

Uther seemed at a loss for a moment and then with a swift nod waved for everyone to leave them alone.

With curious looks, they obeyed.

"What is this about," Uther asked impatiently and gestured for Arthur to join him at the table.

Arthur couldn't sit, commenced pacing around the room and unable suddenly to look at his father.

"Really Arthur, this is most unlike you. Whatever is causing such behaviour?" Uther demanded sounding exasperated. That tone lit Arthur's anger to explosive effect.

"How could you!" he cried. "How could you lock up a baby and his mother and ruin lives like that!" Arthur stared now at the man he had always looked up to, idolised even.

There was deathly silence filled with a tangible tension.

Their eyes locked and Arthur could see realisation sweep over his father as his expression set into righteous resolve. He had seen that particular expression too many times at court not to prepare for a lecture of some sort.

"Everything I do is for the sole purpose of protecting Camelot," Uther declared, chin held high.

"Because imprisoning an innocent child did that so well," Arthur thought indignantly. He muttered this aloud and awaited the explosion.

"Speak plainly of who you mean," Uther advised darkly. "You obviously have someone in mind."

Like he didn't know.

"Have there been so many, that you have forgotten father?" he prodded angrily feeling his face begin to flush, displaying his temper beyond his control.

"Watch how you speak to me. I am still your King," Uther pointed out; face tight.

Arthur sank into a chair at the opposite end of the table. The distance seemed to echo the gap in their values. He desperately wanted to hear Uther deny he had behaved in such a manner, that he would never treat vulnerable subjects in such a way.

"The mother was called Hunith," Arthur mumbled, forcing the words out. "And the babe called Merlin." Despite knowing it to be true he croaked, "Tell me you didn't."

Time seemed to slow as he awaited a response.

Glancing upward, he met his father's implacable stare.

"Everything I do is for the sole purpose of protecting Camelot," Uther repeated like a mantra. Only a brief flickering in his eyes betrayed his discomfort.

"Let him go. Please," Arthur begged huskily.

Several seconds passed. "No. If I do so then all others like him will believe Camelot to be vulnerable to attack," Uther stated. "Now, if you will leave me I can continue with my meeting," he said matter of fact, looking at him as if Arthur had committed the worst betrayal.

As if Arthur had!

"I will never forgive you," Arthur muttered. "You locked him up because he was magical. He was too young to cause you any harm."

"You say so now, but you don't understand the dangers these people pose. Once you are King you will understand," Uther murmured leaning toward where he sat. "I forgive you," he stated. "Now leave me."

Arthur was unsure whether to have that temper tantrum he'd sworn to rise above or strangle the man before him with his bare hands. He found he could do neither.

"I mean what I say," he advised, putting all his feelings into his words.

Uther sighed. "As do I my son. You are young and will one day understand." He held open the door.

Somehow, Arthur managed to make his way to his chambers without any great act of violence. He cursed his inability to alter something he found so abhorrent. Slamming his door was his only consolation and momentary at best.

This wasn't the end!

* * *

Arthur stayed in his chambers for the remainder of the day, ignoring a variety of servants' attempts to attend to his needs. After the fifth person had knocked politely, he had informed his manservant Percy to tell everyone _immediately_ that Arthur was indisposed for the rest of the day. His manservant was a slight boy, only a few years older than he was and distinctly in awe of anyone royal. It had been easy to dismiss him as soon as he had carried out Arthur's instructions.

Arthur could no longer accept the judgement that magic was wrong. It, at least in Merlin's case, was an innate talent, ability-whatever you wanted to name it. It just was. Everything Gaius had shared with him backed this up and he was desperate to see Merlin free and Camelot a home for whoever wished it. As surely as he was Prince and heir, they were magical beyond their control. Surely, his father could come to see that.

Arthur pushed back damp hair from his forehead with a weary sigh and wondered what to do. He couldn't wait until the day he became King to free Merlin and have a more tolerant Camelot. What choice was there though other than wait? Arthur hated his father's actions but he could not hate his father. It would be so much easier if he could. Thinking of the future and his father's death seemed a betrayal and closing his eyes tight Arthur searched for possible solutions without the necessity of violence or underhand behaviour.

Hammering on his chamber door brought him out of his troubled thoughts and Arthur slid from his bed. Before he could order the person to leave, Morgana had let herself in. She vibrated intense emotions. Her eyes flashed and her small pale hands opened and closed reflexively.

"Morgana?" Arthur frowned, she was obviously upset.

Her eyes met his abruptly. "You can't let this go on," she begged. For the first time she appeared older than her twelve years.

He sighed. "What are you talking-?"

"I overheard you and Gaius," she said and blushed as he raised an eyebrow. "You want to change how things are here. I agree and I want to help," she said with certainty. "I have never liked the way he treats – people like me."

Arthur stared uncertain if he'd heard correctly. "Like you?" The weight of her words hit with sudden force. "You?" he repeated in shock.

Morgana nervously brushed her hair from her face, whilst biting her lip but looked at him defiantly. "I can see things, foretell future events in dreams. When I came here, it was beginning to manifest. Gaius helped me understand what was happening to me," she explained.

_Gaius._

"You heard us talk about the boy?" he wondered and frowned when she nodded. "Did you know before? I mean did Gaius tell you?"

She shook her head. "No, but I have seen a young man in my dreams, tall and fair, with eyes of gold." Morgana looked him straight in the eye. "You were there too and called him Merlin."

"That is his name," he murmured deep in thought. "How old would we be?" he asked curious to know more.

"So you want to talk to me now?" she said reverting to the bratty child he'd always encountered. "Am I supposed to feel honoured?"

He frowned, gritting his teeth. "I apologise for avoiding you and being a bit of a – "

The 'brat' was grinning at him with sparkling eyes.

"One day I'm going to get the better of you," he muttered.

Morgana raised an eyebrow. "So what are we going to do?"

Arthur's head spun at this abrupt swing in the conversation. "Do?" he said puzzled.

"About magic," she said rolling her eyes. "About Merlin."

"I spoke to my father," Arthur said with a defeated expression. "He wasn't having any of it."

"You did?" she asked wonderingly eyes big. For the first time he could see admiration in her gaze and his chest puffed out at this appreciation. She was a pipsqueak but Arthur enjoyed that type of look from any quarter.

"But if talk doesn't work then a different approach is required," she stated decisively.

He stared at this different, utterly serious side to the brat he knew and often found annoying in the extreme. "What did you have in mind?" he asked warily.

"I may know someone who can help," she said with determination lighting her eyes and tightening her mouth.

Morgana had resided in Camelot a mere year and Arthur couldn't think who she could have met in so short a time to help in such a situation. She seemed to spend all her time in her maid Guinevere's company, when she wasn't hunting him that was. He wondered this aloud and stared at the smirk, which twisted her mouth.

"They helped me one day when I fell in the woods and injured my ankle. I've been visiting ever since," she explained.

Arthur was concerned. "You visit complete strangers in the woods?" he asked incredulously. Was she completely stupid? "Do you know the type of people who wander such places?"

Morgan shrugged. "They have done me no harm. Quite the opposite in fact and they have some interesting gifts."

It was worse than he'd thought. "What type of gifts?" he asked slowly, almost not wanting to hear her reply.

She grinned wickedly. "Magical ones."


End file.
